Verboten
by Cordelia Rose
Summary: Jalex. Teacher/student. Alex is the new boy who joins halfway through the year, and he intrigues his teacher, Jack. Jack knows that anything more than teaching between them is strictly forbidden but...there's something about Alex that makes him want to know more. Rating may go up.
1. Chapter 1

_Hey, everyone. This is just an idea that's been knocking around in my head for some time and I had some spare time just now, and wrote this. It shouldn't have any typos, but I am rather sleep deprived right now, so it is possible I've missed some. Please let me know if you spot any and leave me some feedback :)_

* * *

"Morning, Year Tens," Jack greeted, as the first of his class trailed in, chatting and laughing amongst themselves. A few replied cheerily, others not so, some ignored him completely and stalked to their assigned places.

Jack let out a slow breath and grabbed a stack of purple A4 books from his desk, which had previously been wobbling precariously, threatening to collapse at the slightest tremor.

"Right!" he said loudly, catching the students' attention and causing the low-level noise to die down immediately.

"I've marked your essays – on the whole, rather good, but one or two of you fell down on the small details, which is understandable. Laura…Amy…" he muttered as he navigated around the classroom and dropped books on people's desks. "Abbie, that was very good, but the Potsdam Conference was in July 1945, not June 1945…"

He was halfway round the classroom, commenting on essays and allowing his pupils to chat quietly among themselves as he did so, when there was a knock on the door. "Come in," he called, handing the remaining books to a boy called Joe and asking politely if he could finish handing them out.

Mrs Gregor, the school's counsellor, poked her head round the door and gestured for Jack to come out of the classroom. Jack hurried to the door with the instructions, "I'll be right back, class; in the meantime, read through the corrections I've written on your essays and fill in your target sheets in the back of your books."

There was a general chorus of "Yes sir" as he stepped out of the room and closed the door behind him.

"This is Alex," said Mrs Gregor, gesturing to a teenage boy beside her. His left leg was jogging up and down with what Jack guessed was anxiety, and he was rubbing his thumbs together rhythmically.

"Hello Alex, I'm Mr Barakat," Jack introduced himself, smiling reassuringly (he hoped). It seemed to work, because Alex's shoulders drooped slightly and he smiled back, his hands stilling.

"He's just joined today – his parents moved – and he will be in your History class, and joining your form group," Mrs Gregor explained. "Sorry for the short notice, it was all rather rushed."

"It's fine," Jack smiled and stepped back to his classroom door, leaning against the handle. "Come on in, Alex, it's a nice group." He nodded to Mrs Gregor as she patted Alex on the back and turned on her heel.

Jack opened the door and Alex trotted in ahead of him. His hands had started to rub each other again and he was visibly twitching. "Keep calm," Jack muttered as he guided Alex to the one free desk next to his desk, next to a girl named Faye.

Faye looked up and smiled at Alex kindly, and then looked towards her teacher quizzically.

Jack crouched down in front of them and spoke quietly so others couldn't listen in. "Faye, this is Alex, he's just joined. He's also going to be in our form group – can you look after him a bit, make sure he knows his way around?"

"Yeah, course," Faye replied. Jack smiled – Faye was more than responsible enough and had a strong mother hen kind of instinct – Alex would be safe.

Jack turned his attention to the new boy. "Alex, have you done anything about the Cold War before?" He shook his head silently. "Right…hang on a sec, I'll grab you a book and we'll have to do some extra catch up sessions some time, maybe after school if that's alright?"

"Yeah, that's fine sir," Alex whispered. Faye glanced at him and Jack knew she was thinking the same thing – anxiety.

"Here," Jack said, placing a blank book down in front of his student. "This lesson won't be much use as you won't know what's going on…" Jack pondered upon the matter for a few minutes, rocking back and forth on his heels thoughtfully. "How about you write a list of the time periods you've studied since Year 7 and the topics and stuff so I know what you've covered?"

Alex nodded as Jack placed a couple of sheets of lined paper on his desk and jumped back to the front of the class. "So!" he said loudly, clapping his hands to gather everyone's attention. "Let's talk about the Cuban Missile Crisis!"

There was a collective groan from the class as they opened their books and pulled out pencil cases.

* * *

The bell rang, signifying the end of the day, and Jack dismissed his Year Sevens and sat back down at his desk, rubbing his hands over his face. Eight hours of work and now six more hours of marking as soon as he got home.

He bent down to retrieve a pile of textbooks from under the desk and slammed them onto the nearest table, repeating his action several more times until he had recovered all of the books.

Jack stood up and began to stack them back in a low wooden cupboard, slightly battered and bruised from several years of rowdy students. It was a hot day and the classroom was stuffy; Jack rolled his sleeves up to the elbows and opened a window, swearing at the limited range.

He had already sweated buckets that day and had been wearing his jacket to cover up most of the stains, but now he was alone he stripped it off and undid a few of his buttons at the top of his shirt.

He sighed in relief at the immediate drop in temperature and carried on storing away the books, listening to the sounds of birds tweeting and students chattering outside his room.

There was suddenly a timid knock at the door, so small that Jack thought he had imagined it. Then it came again, and Jack sprung up, knocking a teetering stack of books over and shrugging his jacket on to cover up any marks left by sweat on his shirt.

"Come in," he called, already feeling his temperature rising from the burgundy jacket.

The door opened slowly and Alex tiptoed into the room, biting his lip nervously. "Hello, sir," he said quietly. "I just came to ask about the History catch up sessions…"

"Oh, right." Jack stood up, wincing at the creaking of his knee joints, and ruffled through the papers on his desk to find his diary. He flipped it open to the current date and scanned down the pages quickly, his eyes flickering over the scribbled notes. "Today and Tuesday are a no…Wednesday and Friday are good…Thursday is questionable."

"I can do Tuesday and Friday," Alex offered, fidgeting with his bag, running the zip up and down.

"Great," Jack mumbled, grabbing a pencil from his desk and jotting down _Alex: his. catch up. _

"Thanks sir," Alex said, appearing slightly more cheerful, and turning to go. Then he paused, and asked nervously, "Do you need any help clearing up, sir?"

Jack looked up, a pen lid in his mouth. He took it out quickly and said hurriedly, "You go on home, Alex, it's fine."

"I'm only going home to an empty house, my parents don't get home until around 10pm," Alex replied quickly.

"If you want to help…then why not?" Jack agreed, after a moment of consideration. Alex grinned and bounced into the room, going to kneel next to the cupboard and starting to pile books up inside.

"So, where do you live, anyway?" Jack quizzed. "If you're still here then I'm guessing you don't catch a bus, and if your parents aren't home until late…"

"I live on the other side of town. I walk, it's only about four miles," Alex answered nonchalantly.

Jack turned his head and frowned at his student. "Four miles every day?"

"Technically eight," Alex corrected. "I like walking, it clears my head."

Jack eyed the boy. No wonder he was so skinny. "Can't you get the bus? Or get your parents to drop you in the morning?"

Alex considered. "I could, but like I said, it clears my head."

Jack nodded and crouched down next to Alex, catching his scent – he wasn't sure what it was but it was nice, it suited Alex down to the ground.

* * *

Half an hour later, Alex slung his bag back over his shoulder and said goodbye, walking in quick, long strides.

Jack smiled as he raised a hand in departure and then chucked his own books in a duffel bag, along with the books he needed to mark. He rearranged the items on his desk into some form of order so it wouldn't look so bad to the cleaners tonight and flicked the lights off after him.

He walked down the deserted corridor and down the stairs, shoes tapping on the metal, and then strode out to the car park, panting in the extreme heat. He unlocked his car with the familiar beep and shoved his duffel bag into the backseat and clambering into the front seat, which was currently at the same temperature of Hell.

He unwound the window, and sat there for a few minutes as the engine rumbled, considering Alex.

_Strange boy_. But there was something strangely inviting and charming to his personality. Jack was curious.

And he was going to find out more.


	2. Chapter 2

"Um, hey, sir."

Jack glanced up from his desk, throwing down his red pen when he recognised the figure in the doorway. "Alex! Come in! Hold on a sec…I have your book here somewhere…" Jack fumbled over the papers and books on his desk, spilling several of them on the floor in the process. He cursed loudly, forgetting his student was in the room, and scooped them up messily, all but chucking them back onto his desk.

"I have my book, actually, sir," Alex said shyly. Jack froze like a rabbit caught in headlights, a pen in his mouth and random papers in his hands.

Jack calmly removed the pen from his mouth, and with as much dignity as he could muster, replied, "That would explain it. Thank you. Shall we begin?"

* * *

It was about an hour into the catch up session and Jack was pleased with Alex's progress, and with his intelligence. True, it was a one on one lesson, which naturally meant that less time would be needed to cover each topic, but even with that borne in mind, Alex was making headway in a remarkably short gap of time. He was focused and quick-witted.

Jack pushed his glasses further up his nose and tapped his pen against the desk rapidly, humming slightly as he finished reading through a Year Nine's essay on the causes of the French Revolution. Alex was scribbling something down on a sheet about the Potsdam Conference and frowning at his paper.

Jack added the essay to a stack of other essays, grabbing the pile, "I need to take this to the office, I'll be right back." Alex looked up and nodded his confirmation, then immediately returned to his work.

Jack hurried out of the room and down the corridor, slipping into the office and filing the essays into the Year Nine drawer. He turned back to leave and locked the door behind him, the key sticking in the old lock. "Bloody old school," he muttered as he strode back down the corridor, pushing his classroom door open with his back.

"Can't even afford to get the locks changed," he said vehemently under his breath, slipping the key into his pocket with his phone. "How are you getting on?" He addressed the question to Alex, who now had his hand on his forehead tersely.

"Alright," the teenager mumbled without looking up, "it's hard."

"It's meant to be," Jack agreed. "I usually get students to do it in pairs, so no wonder it's difficult." He approached the desk and settled down onto his wooden chair, taking his glasses off and tossing them down on the oaken surface, leaning over to see how Alex's work was. He frowned.

Alex's handwriting was normally neat and smooth, curling over the lines printed on the paper, but it was messy here, and waved up and down. It was rough and scraggled, written in shorthand, not at all inkeeping with Alex's usual, meticulous notes.

"Alex?" he said softly, upon realising that the teenager had dropped his pen and was now cradling his head in both of his hands. "Alex?" he repeated, louder, and then tentatively touched his hand to his shoulder.

Alex jerked as if a bolt of electricity had struck him, and Jack made a calming, shushing noise and removed his hand. Alex curled his legs up underneath him on the chair and linked his arms around the front of his shins, and burrowed his face into his legs. Jack could hear ragged, irregular, painful breaths being sucked into Alex's lungs, and slid off his chair so he could crouch in front of the boy.

"Alex? Alex, can you look at me?" Jack waited for any sort of reply, and when it was clear he would not get one, tried a different tactic: "You need to breathe deeply, Alex, in and out. I know it's really hard right now, and I know you feel like you're going to die, but if you breathe deeply the feeling will be over quicker." He made sure to keep his tone measured, even, calm; he saw Alex's shoulders relax minutely at his firm instructions and he attempted to make his breathing more regulated, struggling against his panic attack.

It was a good few minutes before Alex spoke: "It's…can't do it…die…"

Jack understood the broken fragments of his speech. "I know it's hard, but you can do it. I know your chest feels very tight and you feel like you're going to explode from the panic, but you will not die. You will be fine, and you will be fine even sooner if you just keep trying to breathe deeply and slowly."

Alex unfolded his body, letting his legs fall to the floor and his arms collapsed brokenly onto his lap as his breaths forced themselves into a regular pattern.

"That's it…well done…" Jack murmured, ensuring his tone was reassuring. He reached out again to Alex, this time lying a hand on his hand. Alex started but this time less significantly, and he didn't shudder away from his touch.

Suddenly Alex threw himself from his chair and onto Jack, his arms wrapping around his slender frame. Jack mirrored his actions, knowing that Alex wasn't in his right state of mind right now, and above all else needed comfort.

Hesitantly, wondering whether this was trespassing into the No Man's Land of teacher-student relationships, Jack reached up to stroke through Alex's hair, humming softly into Alex's ear.

He could feel Alex nuzzling into his neck, and settled down into a more comfortable position, gently ushering Alex into his lap. _Definitely crossing some sort of boundary,_ he thought. Right then, he didn't care; Alex was a scared boy in need of protection.

Alex's breathing eventually slowed down to normal, and he began to stop rocking backwards and forwards so rapidly. Just as suddenly as he had collapsed onto Jack, he had scrambled up again, and had run to the door, pausing only to gather his jacket and bag, and then he stumbled out of the door without a word backwards.

Jack staggered to his feet, a dead leg hindering him, and rushed as best he could to the window that overlooked the school gates. He saw Alex hurrying out, his cheeks bright red, and deduced that Alex was either upset or embarrassed. Jack groaned and flung himself into his chair. He grabbed his marking for the night and shoved it blindly into his bag, heading out of the door in much the same fashion as Alex had done minutes before.

* * *

Hope you enjoyed :) let me know what you think!


	3. Chapter 3

Alex walked in to Jack's room the next morning with his face hidden. The first bell had just rung, signalling Registration, and his form were slowly filing in. Alex took his seat – although not strictly assigned, his pupils seemed to sit in the same places every day – and started to jiggle his leg up and down nervously, and tapping his right hand on the desk in a quick, frantic rhythm.

"Alex," Jack said quietly as another group of students traipsed in, Faye among them. Alex looked up at his teacher reluctantly, his face flushed with embarrassment. "Can you come up here for a second?"

Alex stood, looking for all the world like he was being asked to repeat Hercules' Twelve Labours, but stomped over to the desk, narrowly avoiding a collision with Faye, who laughed it off and settled into her usual seat next to Alex's.

"I just wanted to say," Jack muttered, "that you have nothing to be ashamed of. What happened yesterday doesn't mean you're weak, or that I think anything bad of you, it just means that now I understand what's going on in your head a little better."

"Really?" Alex whispered through cracked lips. They looked as though they had been bitten several times since Jack had seen him last, and he hadn't bothered to straighten his hair that morning. In fact, it looked like he had barely slept last night.

"Really," Jack replied. "You were having a panic attack, Alex, and you weren't in your right mind – you were seeking comfort, and that's understandable."

"Thanks, sir!" Alex appeared to brighten up and almost skipped back to his seat. He greeted Faye and they both chatted happily.

Jack cleared his throat for attention and took the register quickly, and then just as rapidly read out the sheet of notices for the day. "Bell's going to go in five minutes," he called, glancing at the clock, "feel free to chat while you're waiting."

Jack clicked through his emails and sighed as he read several messages from the Head Teacher criticising the behaviour of a few individual members of his form. He groaned inwardly – he would have to make some phone calls that night.

The bell rang, and Jack jumped to his feet, yelling, "Stand behind your places quietly, please." He waited for compliance from the students and then dismissed them, bringing up the PowerPoint he needed for this lesson on his computer screen.

"Alex," he said, sorting through papers on his desk, "I was thinking as we've only started catching up so far, you could spend this lesson copying up the work we did last night, and I have some additional worksheets here for you." Jack let out a small, triumphant cry and retrieved the papers from his desk. He leant over his desk and slid the papers over to Alex, who was tugging his book and own papers from his bag, along with his pencil-case.

"Thanks, sir," Alex said, smiling at his teacher. Jack felt suddenly weirdly happier that his pupil was looking cheerier, but as the rest of the students filed into the room he pushed the thought from his mind.

"Hey, Mr. Barakat," Faye said, approaching his desk. Jack glanced up and smiled in greeting, accepting Faye's proffered book.

"Hello, Faye, what can I do for you?" Jack asked, scanning the page in front of him.

"I was just wondering about whether I've done the essay you set us right, I wasn't really sure…" Faye's voice trailed off as she began to chew her nails and fidget.

"Let me see…" Jack muttered, "It seems alright, you've definitely got the right idea, you could expand a little bit more on a few of the points you've made."

"Yeah, I had to finish it in a bit of a hurry, I got distracted chatting to Alex," Faye grinned, readjusting her bag on her shoulder.

"Oh? What were you talking about?" Jack asked interestedly, yanking his red pen from his drawer and writing a couple of comments on Faye's essay.

"Just about his old school and stuff like that, he's been really badly bullied in the past and he's hoping he's not going to be here."

"Why was he bullied?" Jack frowned. He wasn't horrible; he was a sweet, kind boy, as far as Jack could tell, and he wasn't ugly – in fact, the opposite.

"He's gay," Faye replied, in what seemed to Jack in a far too casual manner.

"Ah," was Jack's reply. He handed Faye's book back to her and smiled as she exited the room.

Inside, Jack's mind was fizzing and bubbling like a chemical reaction, and his insides suddenly felt strange. He shook his head and picked up a pile of textbooks, shoving them roughly into the cupboard to distract himself with the task. However, his mind wandered and he soon found himself thinking about Alex again, distracted by the images of him tossing his head to flick his hair out of his face, and when he smiled and an adorable dimple appeared in his left cheek.

Jack shook his head again, as if the physical motion would force the thought to fly from his mind, and stood up, slamming the cupboard doors shut. He frowned, rubbing at a crease set in the back of his neck like he always did when he was plagued by a nagging thought, the kind that rested in the back of your mind and were constantly an itch that you couldn't get rid of.

Jack settled back into his chair and sighed, drumming his hands on the arm rests. His mind flicked back to Alex again, annoyingly (or maybe not so much), and a new idea blossomed.

He pulled open the lid of his laptop and waited for the slow internet connection to take him to Google, and then typed rapidly 'anxiety' and hit the enter key. While he waited for the search results to load, he sprung from his chair and hurried down to the Student Support centre, luckily only a thirty-second walk from his classroom. Relieved that it was empty – not that what he was doing was illegal or against the rules, he just didn't want to have to explain his actions to anybody at that moment – Jack slipped into the office and pulled out the drawer in the filing cabinet called 'Year Ten'. He flipped through to find 'Gaskarth, Alex' marked in the untidy scrawl of the secretary and tugged it out, closing the drawer again.

He closed the office door after himself quietly, even though there was no one there to hear him, and stepped back to his classroom quickly. He plonked himself down in front of his laptop once more, clicking on the first website that had come up and ruffling through Alex's file.


	4. Chapter 4

Jack flipped Alex's file open, scanning down the first page. It was the standard, basic information that each child had in their file. Jack noted that his middle name was William, and smiled to himself faintly. His date of birth was typed just underneath his name, and Jack reached for his diary. He flipped three months forward to December, and jotted 'Alex's birthday' down in his untidy scrawl, not entirely sure why he was doing it.

Jack read through the page quickly, glancing over and mostly ignoring his contact details and address, and, turning the page over, cursed at the folder for being awkwardly resistant and refusing to let him bend the page over entirely.

He reached over to his desk and retrieved his glasses case, seating them on his nose comfortably.

The next page was his last school's report. He had achieved As in all of his subjects, and all of his teachers had scribed glowing reports, full of praise – Jack frowned, wondering why Alex had left if he was getting on so well.

The next page gave him the answer to that. It was entitled 'Personal Details', and when Jack quickly checked out the number of pages, it was clear that there was a myriad of problems surrounding Alex.

The first sub-heading was 'Primary Education', a section that continued at least onto the next page. Jack shoved his glasses further up his nose and started to read.

_Alex first experienced problems with bullying in primary school. He was naturally reclusive and seemed to enjoy spending break and lunch times by himself, rather than playing with the other children. He didn't enjoy the same things as the other pupils, and was of above average intelligence, which made him a target._

_In Kindergarten, Alex was a very serious boy. Unlike the other new pupils, who often got emotional when being separated from their parents, Alex was very stoic in his nature. He seemed irritated at the displays of affection shown by fellow classmates and their parents, and more than once expressed confusion over why they were acting in such a way – it was as if the bonds and love between them was an alien experience to him._

_Unlike the others, he was very quiet once settled, and never volunteered information independently. If asked to answer a question, his answers were correct 99% of the time, and he was very straight-to-the-point with his answers, speaking concisely and practically. He presented neat and tidy work, with meticulous handwriting and a clear layout, both very advanced for his age. He was silent when completing tasks, not contributing to group chatter at the tables._

_At first, the students tried to interact with Alex, and he responded politely, but warily, like he wasn't sure whether they were lying or how to handle the friendship that he was being offered. After a few weeks of their attempts, they simply left Alex alone._

_It is not clear when the bullying started, but it is most likely that it began shortly after their attempts at friendship which would be roughly halfway through the school year. Alex never spoke out about his bullying, but it was noticed that around the middle of the academic year, Alex became even more reclusive, and started to remain inside during play-times, claiming he preferred the indoors._

_As time went on, Alex was steadily more inclined to stay inside and began to isolate himself from others, sitting alone during class-time._

_When Alex progressed into Year 1, he had the best testing scores and reading age of the year, but no friends. He often seemed tired and withdrawn but worked hard and completed all tasks before anyone else._

_It was discovered that Alex had not been driven to school for some time, and had told his parents that he wished to walk the two miles by himself to and from school. When his parents were questioned on this, they insisted that the distance was safe and Alex had walked further before, and all they wanted was for their son to do as he wished._

_Alex's erratic behaviour continued throughout the time he was at the school. In Year 2, he claimed that he had fallen badly in the corridor to the teacher who found him lying on the floor. He was taken to hospital and his wrist was found to be broken. When asked about his fall, Alex only said that he had tripped, and then refused to answer any other questions, leading teachers to believe that he had been pushed by another student. Alex didn't answer when he was asked if this was true. _

_After this event, teachers were more diligent in taking care of Alex, and with their increased observation noticed that when students passed Alex's desk in lessons they would often whisper something, and similarly when passing in corridors. Alex refused to acknowledge these events when talked to by a teacher, and the other students insisted that they were only saying greetings to Alex on these occasions._

_In Year 3, Alex started to spend long periods of time in the school's library, visiting whenever possible. This behaviour carried on through to Year 6, right up until Alex left for secondary school. He rejected any questions posed to him about this by replying that he liked reading every time he was asked._

_Years 4, 5 and 6 are similar in their events: every month or so, Alex would be sent home with some form of injury, usually head or arm related. He maintained that these injuries were his own fault, and similarly his classmates claimed that Alex must have been clumsy. During these years, Alex never reported anything but seemed to be in a continually low mood. When his parents were consulted, they said that Alex had been behaving normally and happily at home, and that perhaps the work was making him unhappy at school._

Jack flipped the folder shut unhappily. He wasn't sure he wanted to read anymore if it was all like this. He dropped it on his desk and ran his hands over his face, sighing at what he had just read. He resolved to ask Alex about it in their after-school session that evening.


	5. Chapter 5

The bell rang its usual sharp trill, signifying the end of the last lesson. The hallways suddenly transformed from the silent, empty passages into a crowd of noisy, shouting teenagers, their footsteps thundering as they all scrambled for their freedom.

Jack held his wooden door open, absent-mindedly stroking his thumb along the solid, round handle of brass. He smiled and returned his students' farewells as they passed, waiting for the last of them to clear out before winging the door shut with a firm clap of noise and muffling the sounds outside.

Jack started to re-arrange the desks back into their usual formation; they had been moved as his last class had been working on group projects. He swore as he saw the scattered scraps of paper that decorated his carpeted floor, and at the number of scissors and glues still left out on the wooden surfaces.

"Are you okay?" came Alex's voice.

Jack whirled around, taken by surprise, his hand still clutching his messy quiff in frustration. "Alex! Sorry, didn't hear you come in."

"It's fine, sir." Alex shrugged it off nonchalantly and dropped his bag by Jack's desk hesitantly. "You sounded angry…?"

"Yeah, no big deal," Jack said, puffing out a large break of air. "Year Sevens don't know what the words 'tidy up' mean, judging by this."

Alex laughed as he surveyed the scene in front of him. "I'll help," he offered, kneeling down on one knee to collect paper.

Jack, momentarily dazed by the sight of Alex bent over in tight jeans, replied, "Yeah, thanks."

Together, the work was quickly done, and only five minutes had passed when they started to slot the desks back together. "That's the last time I'm letting them do a group project," Jack commented ruefully.

"What was it on?" Alex questioned, pushing a desk against the wall neatly.

"Henry VIII," Jack replied, "and his six wives. I gave each of the groups a wife and they had to make a poster about her. They got a little too excited at the prospect of cutting and sticking, as you can probably tell from his bomb-site."

"I remember doing the Tudors," Alex said conversationally. "We mostly did Elizabeth I, though."

"We're moving onto that soon," Jack replied, chucking the last of the paper into the recycling bin.

"I wish I'd been at this school since Year Seven," Alex said, with a slight hint of bitterness underlying his words.

Jack cleared his throat and began awkwardly, "Alex, Faye told me something…"

Alex tensed suddenly from where he was bending over to retrieve a pair of scissors. He straightened up and threw them into the plastic blue box. "Yeah?"

"She told me about how you were bullied at your last school…for being gay?" Jack bit his lower lip, worried how Alex would react.

The student sighed and clasped his hands behind his neck. "Yeah, I was…" he admitted.

Jack moved towards Alex slowly, touching his shoulder tentatively. "I don't have any problem with homosexuality."

Alex turned to face him, looking suddenly anxious. "I didn't think you did, sorry if you thought that, I just-"

Jack cut off his babbling with a calm utterance of, "Alex, Alex, Alex." When he stopped apologising and regarded his teacher with wary eyes, Jack sighed and continued, "You didn't give off that impression at all, okay? That was the wrong way for me to say that – obviously, with your anxiety, you're going to worry about offending people a lot. I just wanted to let you know, yeah? I'm always here to chat because, I mean, I went through the same thing when I was about your age."

Alex started. "You're…?" he started to ask, but trailed off uncertainly.

"Yeah, I'm gay," Jack said, wondering why he was telling such a thing to his student. He knew he could trust Alex anyway. "And I was bullied for it, although from the tone of Faye's voice, I don't think mine was quite as bad as yours."

Alex nodded, understanding the subtle invitation to talk and instinctively tugging at his teacher's sleeve. Jack pulled out two chairs and sat down on one of them, letting Alex clutch his shirt for comfort.

"Keep breathing," Jack told him, "in and out, deep breaths."

Alex nodded again and exhaled before beginning to talk. "I realised I was gay in Year Seven, towards the end of it, which I guess is quite an early time to realise. I didn't really have any friends before that anyway, but somehow the news got out in the last week of the school year. I'm still not sure how – I didn't tell anyone but I guess someone saw me writing in my journal about it or something."

"I used to have a journal," Jack chipped in, stroking through Alex's hair soothingly. "It really helped."

"It did, yeah." Alex took three deep breaths in and out to steady himself, and then continued. "I had the summer holidays to worry about it and when I got back, I thought people would have forgotten about it, but they hadn't. It was really bad. It started off with them calling me stuff like 'faggot' or that I was a freak, and I…" Alex swallowed nervously and his breathing sped up a little.

"Alex, deep breaths, slow breaths, come on," Jack said firmly, still running his hand through Alex's soft hair. "That's it," he praised when Alex's breathing went back to normal. "What were you going to say? I won't judge you for it, whatever it is," he added.

"I turned to self-harm," Alex whispered, looking down at the floor and taking a shuddering breath.

"That's…not very good, obviously," Jack said, desperately trying to think of a way to make his student feel better. "But it doesn't make you a bad person, and it definitely doesn't make you a freak or anything. It's not a label."

"Thanks, sir," Alex said, sounding grateful for the comfort. "They – the people bullying me – they found out about the cutting too, a couple of months after I started, and they started calling me an emo and stuff like that.

"I attempted suicide a few weeks after that, but it didn't work, my parents found me and called an ambulance. I was put on a suicide watch and I was considered even more of a freak after it. I thought I was a failure for not being able to kill myself, and the cutting became worse and worse."

"It's okay," Jack said quietly, sensing another panic attack coming on if he didn't diffuse the situation. "You're not a failure, you're not a freak, you're not anything like that. You're just Alex, and Alex is a very good person, believe me."

A tear dripped onto the floor from Alex's downward-facing face, and Jack wrapped his arms around the boy instinctively. "Don't cry, Alex, you have no reason to be ashamed of yourself."

"I'm such a mess," Alex sobbed, his body shaking. He collapsed into Jack's arms and his tears fell thick and fast.

"You're not a mess, Alex, trust me you're not." Jack was at a loss for words – he honestly didn't know what to say. "You've made friends here, right?"

Alex nodded. "Y-yeah…Faye."

"Have you talked to Faye about any of this?" Jack asked gently, resting his chin on Alex's head.

"No, not yet, just the basics…she doesn't know about the cutting or anything." Alex's tears were becoming slower and he wiped his face, inhaling deeply.

"Well done, that's good, keep breathing like that," Jack encouraged. "Now, I'm not going to force you to tell anyone, but Faye is an extremely trustworthy person and having a friend who knows will help a serious amount."

Alex nodded silently, still attempting to control his tears. "Sorry, sir," he said, in a slightly shaking voice, a few minutes later.

"It's fine, honestly," Jack said softly, rubbing his back comfortingly. "Is there anything else you want to get off your chest?"

Alex straightened up, still wrapped in Jack's arm, and leant against his chest. Jack went back to stroking through his coppery hair. "Do you dye your hair?" Jack asked suddenly.

Alex laughed a little. Jack couldn't help noticing how cute his laugh was. "Yeah, it's naturally a kind of light brown colour, I dyed it so it had a red tinge but I'm thinking of letting it fade out."

"I'd like to see your natural colour, give it a go," Jack said, admiring Alex's silky hair.

"Thanks, I think I will." Alex sighed. "Thanks for listening sir, I don't think there's anything else I want to talk about."

"Okay," Jack agreed. "Can I ask you a couple of questions? Only answer if you're comfortable with doing so, though."

"Sure."

"Where do you cut yourself?" At Alex's inquisitive look, Jack shrugged. "I'm just curious."

Alex cleared his throat and looked down at his hands. "Legs mainly, sometimes hips and stomach; I used to do it on my wrists but it's too noticeable."

"Okay, thanks for answering. The next thing is about something that might be a bit sensitive, or might not."

"Right." Alex's brow furrowed as he glanced up at his teacher. "Go ahead."

"You walk a long way to and from school every day, and I've never seen you eating lunch…you're really skinny, Alex, and I have to ask for your well-being. How many calories do you get every day?"

Alex shrugged in a nonchalant manner, even though his body had tensed again. "I dunno, probably about a thousand or so."

Jack sighed. "You're a rubbish liar, Alex, and even if it was a thousand – which I doubt - it's still not enough."

"Just stay out of it, please, sir."

"I can't, Alex, I'm worrying that you have an eating disorder."

Alex paused, and then his fists clenched. "I don't, sir." He stood up.

Jack mentally slapped himself. Way to go, Jack, nice and sensitive about it. "Alex-"

"I don't feel very well," Alex said abruptly. "Sorry, I think I have to go home."

"Alex, I'm sorry for-"

"Doesn't matter sir," Alex replied curtly, grabbing his bag and swinging it onto his shoulder, slamming the door behind him as he left.

Jack groaned in annoyance and frustration, and began to shove his own stuff into the duffel bag he used for school, cursing his own stupidity constantly. He slammed the door behind him in much the same style as Alex had done and locked it aggressively, storming down the corridor and heading towards the car park.

****************************LINE BREAK

Jack flopped onto his sofa and punched the cushion next to him. There was a whine and Jack glanced up to see his puppy watching him, his head cocked to one side. "Come on, Biscuit," he called, patting the space next to him, his anger fading away when he saw his dog.

Biscuit jumped up eagerly and licked him on the nose twice, wagging his bushy tail enthusiastically. It was one thing that Jack loved so much about dogs, they were always so happy to see you at the end of a long day.

"What would I do without you, eh, Biscuit?" Jack mumbled, caressing his fluffy head as he settled down onto Jack's lap.

Biscuit yawned and went to sleep, satisfied now that his owner was home. Jack smiled slightly and ran his hands over his face, wishing he'd handled the situation at school earlier better. Now that he was home, he knew exactly what he should have said, how he should have tackled what was going on.


	6. Chapter 6

"Sir?"

Jack glanced up to see Alex in front of him, his hands shaking and biting his lip. It was break-time and even on the third floor, he could hear shrieks from the pupils messing around outside. "Alex, what's wrong?" He nearly added 'dear' to the end of his sentence and wondered what was going on with him.

"It's…" Alex sighed and closed his eyes briefly, then had another attempt. "I feel…not very good today."

Jack nodded slowly, motioning for Alex to fetch a chair and join him at his desk. "In what way?" he asked gently, hoping that he hadn't upset the student yesterday when he'd brought up the topic of an eating disorder.

"Suicidal." A tear raced down Alex's face. He wiped it away ferociously, as if he was ashamed of himself for crying.

Jack had never been in this situation before – God, what should he do? Tentatively, he questioned, "Are you seriously considering it?"

Alex nodded, burying his face in his hands as more tears escaped from his eyes. Jack grabbed a box of tissues and pulled a few from it, scrunching them together and offering it to Alex. With a shaky "Thanks," Alex accepted the ball of tissue and wiped his face and eyes.

"I've never been in this situation before," Jack began, not totally aware of where what he was saying was going to end up, "but I can tell you one thing: I care about you, and I know a lot of people here who do as well. Understand?"

Alex nodded, still apparently pretending that he wasn't crying.

"Now, what you have to think about is what happens when you commit suicide. I don't mean the impact your death would have on people and all that stuff that just makes you feel guilty about being suicidal, but I mean the actual dying part.

"Your body is an incredible thing. Right now, there are millions and millions of cells in your body. Some of them are carrying blood around your body, some are fighting disease, some are making up various parts of your body like muscles and organs.

"You have an intricate system of organs that digest your food for you, and take out all the nutrients that you need to survive. You have an amazing skeleton that had so many bones all knitted together and enabling you to do brilliant things with your body.

"If you killed yourself, all that would stop. Your brain would stop working, your mind would just…stop, completely. Your heart would stop beating and pumping blood around your body. It would become still and empty.

"Your organs would shut down; your kidneys would stop doing their job, so would your liver, stomach, all of them.

"Your muscles wouldn't ever be used again. Neither would your bones, or any other part of your body." Jack paused and rested his hand on Alex's leg. His student hadn't stopped crying yet, but his eyes were focused on Jack, as he rubbed the tears from his face. "I know what you're feeling right now is terrible. I don't think I could even comprehend feeling like you do now, but I know that it is a terrible ache and possibly the worst thing in your world. But do you want your body to stop working? All of those spectacular things that are happening inside you right now – do you really want them to stop?"

"No," Alex whispered after a few seconds. "I don't."

"Good," Jack said softly. "Now, I know you will still feel like this, but now whenever the feeling or the urge becomes especially strong, just think of this conversation we've had and remind yourself how strong you are."

Alex nodded and stood up, wiping his eyes one last time. Jack, happy to see that he was no longer crying, helped him return the chair he'd used to the correct desk.

"Sorry for wasting your time, sir," Alex muttered, avoiding eye contact with his teacher.

"It isn't a waste of time, Alex," Jack said firmly. "I'm here whenever you need to talk about anything, and in the unlikely event that I'm not, Mrs Gregor is, and she's very good on these issues too."

"Okay, thank you, Mr. Barakat." Alex slung his bad over his shoulder and headed towards the door.

"No problem." Jack called after him, having to restrain himself from saying 'dear' again. He ran a hand through his messy hair, worrying no only about what was going on in his mind, but also about Alex. And if his eyes weren't mistaken, when Alex had pulled his bag across his body, his sleeve had ridden up, and he had a fairly large, irregular bruise decorating his wrist, black, purple and angry.

It was probably nothing – Jack himself currently had a bruise on his hip about the size of a fifty-pence piece, from an enthusiastic attempt at dancing that had taken a horrific turn for the worse when he had smashed into the corner of his dining table. Still, he worried about it – when was his next after-school session with him? Tomorrow. He would ask him about it then.


End file.
